


What Happens In Vegas Follows You Home

by UchiHime



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Arguably underage, Blackmail, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, No sex just mentions of it, Out of Character, mentions of teacher/student, this fic went out of my control
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-24
Updated: 2013-06-24
Packaged: 2017-12-15 22:33:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/854742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UchiHime/pseuds/UchiHime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There were things they hadn’t known, hadn’t even bothered to ask. Like last names, hometowns, and jobs. Derek hadn’t known Stiles would be his teacher at the time. Stiles hadn’t known Derek was underage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Happens In Vegas Follows You Home

**Author's Note:**

> A birthday present for [Andi](http://dylanofuckme.tumblr.com). Even though I never talk to her, I think she's totally awesome.
> 
> Happy birthday, Andi.
> 
> Also, this fic went in a completely different direction than I'd intended and I'm sorry.

Derek wouldn’t say he had  a crush on his English teacher.

No.

He just wanted to fuck him.

He wanted to have the man bent over a desk and impaled on his cock while cries of pleasure fell from his pretty little mouth. He wanted those sinful lips wrapped around his dick while that wicked tongue drove him wild. He wanted to sink his teeth into the man’s neck until his mark stood in bright red contrast to the smooth pale skin.

The problem was, it didn’t take much effort at all to imagine these things, because they had all happened before.

Laura had been planning her twenty-first birthday celebration since she was twelve. It wasn’t so much a celebration as it was the chance to scratch some things off of her bucket list. She wanted to take a roadtrip to Vegas and spend a week there with no parental guidance. She wanted to visit every hotspot on the Strip and drink until her liver failed. She also wanted to bring Derek along for the celebration.

Laura always got whatever she wanted. That’s how Derek ended up in a Las Vegas hotel, abandoned by his sister and her two friends who had immediately headed for the nearest casino, where he promptly bumped into a man that would make the trip far more rewarding.

Derek was only seventeen at the time, but he could easily pass for someone over twenty-one. And he was just like other teenage boys when it came to thinking with his dick. His week in Vegas had been monopolized by a man named Stiles, and since their activities were one’s that didn’t require much talking, Derek couldn’t find it within himself to complain.

For one week, Stiles had been Derek’s. And Derek had been Stiles’. They’d met in a flurry of heat, passion, and intensity. A flame the so hot there was no possible way it could last. But while it was going, it was good. It was great. It was wild, primal. They’d pushed, pulled, grabbed, bit, clawed, fucked.

They’d fucked so many times, Derek had lost count. He’d fucked and been fucked. There was no other word to call it.

They’d had a fling. One week that was theirs to fuck with no attachments. Then, at the end of the week, Derek got in the car with Laura and her friends and headed back to Beacon Hills, thinking he would never see Stiles again.

The rest of the summer had passed. Derek had turned eighteen. He sometimes revisited his memories of Vegas in the dark of night and recalled his favorite moments as he brought himself off into his fist.

On the first day of his last year in high school, he stepped into his fourth hour class and froze in his tracks.

* * *

 

Stiles’ voice was like a river: smooth and lulling, filled with gentle swells and hidden undercurrents, that could at any moment rise into deadly waves that crashed over you and pressed you down, robbing your breath and the strength from your limbs. It was a storyteller's voice, one able to twist words in a way that manipulated emotions and provoked a response out of listeners. His hands had fingers that were long and calloused. They moved in graceful gestures and the occasional sharp punctuating movement to emphasize his words.

Stiles’ voice and hands worked in tandem to fill Derek’s body with heat and desire. Derek wanted to hear that voice saying his name while those smooth hands slid over his body. He wanted to be grabbed by those hands and devoured by that mouth. His mouth was a sin. Always moving with a sharp tongue and with lips that begged to be kiss.

Derek wanted. He wanted with every fiber of his being to have that man writhing beneath him.

Stiles ignited something in Derek he’d never seen before. He wanted every part of the man. He wanted to own him. He wanted to tear him apart and put him back together in a way that left him needing Derek as much as Derek needed him. He wanted to claw his way under his skin and build a spot there just for him. And it was because he wanted it so badly that he couldn’t have it at all.

Stiles was a tornado. A whirlwind. A frenzy of movement. He pulled everything in. Sucked everyone in and took them on a dizzy ride. He cut a dangerous path. He could be deadly. As deadly as he was beautiful.

And Derek was a volcano. His inherent danger lurked beneath the surface, occasionally making itself known in little puffs, but really you had to get up close to see. He could easily destroy everything around him. In an overflow of emotion, of passion, the could burn to ash any who got near.

Stiles was a tornado and Derek was a volcano and who knows what horrors await when the two met. And that’s while Derek could never have Stiles, could never possess him in the way he so desperately wanted.

But he could have just a little. He could have just a bit of Stiles. Just a taste. A strong wind did little to shake a volcano. He would take what he could get.

Laura was as slick and cunning as a snake. She was manipulative and conniving. She was a horrible person to have as your enemy. She always got her way because she knew just what strings to pull or cut. (She was in law school for a reason). And Derek had learned from her. He’d learned her every trick with the intention of being able to thwart her. But he wasn’t trying to stop her this time. Now, at this moment he was asking himself ‘what would Laura do?’ and smirking when he realized the answer.

There were pictures in his phone. Ones that could cause a lot of trouble. Stiles had taken the first one. It was of Derek sleeping naked in the hotel bed. After seeing it, Derek had taken a picture of Stiles’ in the shower. It became a game of sorts. Who could take the most embarrassing picture? A picture of Derek sucking Stiles’ cock. A picture of Stiles riding him. Derek’s face as he orgamsed. Stiles laying there covered in cum.

He didn’t know why he’d kept the pictures. Souvenirs of a summer fling? But they would come in handy now.

There were things they hadn’t known, hadn’t even bothered to ask. Like last names, hometowns, and jobs. Derek hadn’t known Stiles would be his teacher at the time. Stiles hadn’t known Derek was underage.

Derek knew Stiles remembered him. He’d seen that on his face when Derek had stood up during that stupid introduction game. He could see it in the way Stiles refused to meet his eyes and only glanced in his direction for a few seconds at a time with a carefully blank look on his face. He saw it in how everyday Stiles would begin gathering his things near the end of class, lecturing from his desk instead of from in front of the Smart Board, and would rush out of the room the moment the bell rang calling a dismissal over his shoulder.

Stiles was avoiding him. Ignoring him. And Derek didn’t like it.

They had exchanged numbers in Vegas in order to send their pictures to each other. The number wasn’t saved to his phone and Derek hadn’t thought about it all summer, but it had only taking a little digging to find it in his text messages folder. He had to keep the smug grin off his face as his plan started coming together.

Derek sat in the back of class while Stiles lectured about last night’s assigned reading and pulled out his phone.He knew Stiles kept his phone on him at all times because it would occasionally vibrate during class and he would dig it out of his pocket. Usually he’d put the phone right back into his pocket, sometimes he would check a text, once he’d stepped into the hall to take a call.

He chose the first picture Stiles had taken of him. “Fun fact,” he typed in the message, “I was seventeen when this picture was taken.”

A few seconds later Stiles’ phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out and Derek saw a little frown tug at the corner of his mouth when he read the number. He opened the message and his eyes widened in surprise for a fraction of a second, before he carefully school his expression and tucked the phone away, not even sparing a glance in Derek’s direction.

Five minutes later, Derek sent another text. A picture of Stiles on his hands and knees. “The age of consent in Nevada is sixteen,” he added to the message.

Five minutes after that he sent another text. “Homosexual acts are categorized as Crimes Against Nature.”

“The age of consent for crimes against nature is eighteen.”

Every five minutes for the remainder of the ninety-minute class he sent another message. Stiles looked like he wanted to stop checking them after the fourth message. He ignored the phone vibrating in his pocket in favor of calling on a student to answer a question. Halfway through the student’s answer, he pulled the phone out of his pocket, a look in his eyes questioning why he was doing it.

Stiles was a bit of a masochist. Derek had learned that during their week together. That’s why he hadn’t doubted Stiles would look at every single message. As much as it was obviously paining him to do so, Stiles read it message.

Derek sent the last message right before the bell rang. It was a picture of Stiles bent over the sink in the hotel bathroom while Derek fucked him from behind. It was the only picture that had both of their faces in it. He sent just the picture, no added message.

Stiles hadn’t put the phone away after receiving message. The phone vibrated in his hand and he looked at it right away. He stood there, staring at the picture for a long moment, on interrupted by the bell ringing.

“You all need to read at least ten pages of chapter two of On Liberty,” Stiles said, tucking the phone away, “though I would recommend you read twenty. There will be an in-class write. Class dismissed. Mr. Hale, if you could stay behind for a minute,” He added over the sound of chattering students making their way towards the door.

The class emptied quickly, Derek’s classmates eager to get to lunch. The moment the last student exited, Stiles pulled the door closed and hung the laminated paper blind over the window before rounding on Derek. “What was the point of that!” He demanded. “What do you possibly have to gain from harassing me like that?”

“I didn’t appreciate how you were avoiding me.”

“So you corner me during my office hours! You don’t...”

“Send pictures to your phone that could get you arrested for statutory...”

“Don’t say it!” Stiles yelled, putting his hands over Derek’s mouth as if preventing the word from being spoken would make it any less true. “You didn’t tell me you were only seventeen.” It was an accusatory statement.

“You didn’t ask,” Derek deflected with a shrug. His hands were wrapped around Stiles’ wrists and he could feel his pulse jumping beneath his skin.

“What do you want from me?” Stiles asked, stepping backwards asmDerek stepped forward into his space. “Are you blackmailing me? Do you want me to promise you a top grade for the year?” He ran out of space to retreat to when he bumped into his desk and Derek continued pressing forward.

“I can get top grades on my own.” Derek pushed Stiles legs apart and slid into the space between them, pinning the teacher’s wrist to the desk behind him.

“What do you want from me?” Derek could hear the pounding of his heart, could see the light flush on his cheeks.

“I think you know.”

Stiles skin tasted salty. The little whimper he let out when Derek traced the shell of his ear with his tongue was addicting. Stiles was practically trembling in his arms as Derek nibbled his earlobe.

“No,” Stiles mumbled. There was no force in the words. “We’re not doing this. It’s...”

“Legal,” Derek cut him off, whispering the word against his neck. “This is legal. Moral? No. But it is legal. Unlike those pictures in your phone.”

“It’s not legal if I don’t want it.”

“But you do want it.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“Because I want you. Because you’re under my skin and I want to be under yours. Why do my reasons matter?” He released Stiles’ wrists and stepped back.

“Here’s how this is going to go,” Derek explained, “There are twenty-one pictures total. I’m going to text you a location and you’re going to meet me there every week for the next twenty-one weeks. At the end of each meeting, I’ll delete a picture. If you don’t show up, I’m going to post the picture online. In five or six months all the evidence will be gone and you and go on with your life as if you’d never had sex with an underage boy in a Las Vegas hotel room. Do we have a deal?”

Derek could see the conflict on Stiles’ face, but he didn’t really care. He knew it he was being cruel, almost uncharacteristically so, but he couldn’t help himself. He’d never wanted something so badly before. Never felt such need. In the time between leaving Vegas and seeing Stiles in his school, he had barely missed the man. He’d enjoyed the memories, but it hadn’t felt like this. But now he had Stiles so near and wasn’t allowed to touch him... it was driving him mad and he would do anything to have him.

“Yes,” Stiles finally said. “We have a deal.”

**Author's Note:**

> That thing I said about Nevada laws is [NRS 201.195](https://www.leg.state.nv.us/NRS/NRS-201.html#NRS201Sec195).


End file.
